


Valkyrie

by butterflykeyboard



Series: 37th Parallel [1]
Category: Gugudan (Band), I.O.I (Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 10:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflykeyboard/pseuds/butterflykeyboard
Summary: Valkyrie - Borrowed from Old Norse valkyrja (“chooser of the slain”)Is there someone Somi would do anything for? And just how hard is she prepared to fight?Or, will I.O.I return from the war?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to DB and SB for proofreading.

The 18th was going to be a memorable day. Which was why, for the first time in a while, Somi was getting up earlier than she had to. Early enough that after as big of a breakfast as she could manage, she still had time to pretty herself up before it was straight downstairs into the van for a long drive out of Seoul.

Her company for the trip was unusual, however. The passenger side window rolls down, and a very excited – and short – woman is waving at her. “Somi! Somi!” It’s then the side door opens for someone to come running out, arms wrapping around her in a hug, nearly lifting her off the ground with the force.

“Alright, Sejeong, I only just saw you last weekend,” she joked. “And put me down! Have I lost weight, or are you getting even stronger?”

“It’s all my variety shows, I’m getting a good workout from arm wrestling every guest. Come on, we still have to pick up the rest.”

Sejeong runs back to the van, and Somi takes a moment to stare and smile. Yes, she’s right. Her heart still flutters for that person. It’s more than the warmth of a simple reunion – she knows that, because she had lunch with Chaeyeon for the first time in a while just yesterday. The eleven of them have met before – worked miracles with scheduling to allow them to all be in the same place at the same time. She knows what the happiness of a reunion feels like. This is something else, a warmth inside her chest – and maybe her cheeks, just a little. It’s a longing when she’s away from her, when the KKT message stays on read because Sejeong is busy somewhere.

Mina shouting at her breaks her out of her daze, and she joins of the rest of them for the trip out of the city. They’re going to be performing, they have to save energy, but it’s just so, so hard to not sing and scream and hug each other after so long. They have their group chat and Instagram and all that, but it’s just not the same as sitting together and just talking. Singles are played and they sing along to everyone’s songs. The I.O.I discography is conspicuously missing, but they’re saving that for later.

The mood quietens down once they pass into the countryside. A jet flies overhead – low and fast – and Somi, at least, is reminded of current events. Sejeong and Yoojung too are quiet, even if Doyeon next to her is still nattering away. They all fall silent once they reach the base, see the barbed wire fences and concrete boxes and the army vehicles passing by.

But a show is a show, and must go on. The people behind the barricades greet them with smiles, and they all wave at the windows as the van pulls in to drop them off. Part of the women’s barracks has been set aside for costume changes and makeup, and Somi bows low to the uniformed women that show them the way. Now it’s just like any other performance, with stylists and stagehands buzzing about, all while they have to sit still and get all done up.

The stage itself no longer fazes her. She’s seen so many now, but can still feel that slight buzz that comes with any performance. Maybe there’ll be a day when she doesn’t feel that thrill of performance – maybe that’ll be the day she considers doing something else for a living. But that will be another day, for when she strides out there – with ten of her best friends -

Her memory of the exact moment always changes. Sometimes, she hears the whistling first over the roar of the cheering crowd. Sometimes, she sees their expressions change from to shock. Sometimes, when she dreams, she’s completely oblivious until the moment her entire world explodes.

Whatever the truth is, she always remembers what happens next. Screaming, shouting, panic. Something gives out beneath her and she’s scrambling for footing on the collapsing stage. She lands in the mud and looks down, expecting to see dirt on her hands – but they’re running red. She doesn’t feel hurt, so does that it means it someone else’s?

And then someone grabs her arm. It’s Sejeong, pulling her along, shouting something she can’t hear because her ears are still ringing. Pinky, appearing from nowhere, is clinging to her side, red and brown and black and blue, looking like she’s just crawled through hell. Someone’s lying in the dirt, a mess of pink hair amongst the chaos – Mina. For a moment she thinks the worst, but the girl soon stirs. Sejeong grabs on arm and Somi takes the other, and now there’s four of them. Where are the rest?

People are scrambling and shouting all around her, but it’s the sky she looks at first – and she sees hell falling all around her. She needs to run, anywhere that’s not here. Something pulls on her arm, and it’s Sejeong pointing at someone. Doyeon leaps above the mass of people, arms waving wildly, still in her stage outfit. As four they make their way through the mass of people towards her, and she tries not to think about why the crowd is thinning. Why the ground is slippery and red, and what she’s trying not to trip on.

Doyeon has something attached to her hip, Yoojung clinging on for dear life. She still can’t hear a thing, but the tall girl points towards the way they came on stage, past the women’s barracks. Away from the stage, and towards the way they came in. The van.

They run – all of them – like they’ve never run before. Doyeon scoops up Yoojung, Pinky leans on her shoulder, but Sejeong brings up the rear – constantly looking over her shoulder as she flees, searching for something. She knows what it is. The six missing from their five. She can’t think about that now. She just has to keep moving, even as her legs burn and her lungs are on fire and ears feel like they’re about to explode.

Sejeong’s still waiting for the rest of them – facing towards the chaos – and she screams, trying to get her unnie’s attention. Because they need to go. Because as much as she needs the all of them – she needs Sejeong the most. Still, it feels like no sound is coming out – is she out of breath, or still deafened from the explosions?

Just as Sejeong spins around, facing towards her, her hearing comes back for a moment. Just in time for her to hear a bang, one that she feels through entire body. Such is force that she’s lifted off her feet. The last thing she sees is Sejeong’s expression of shock before she lands hard and everything goes black.

///

She wakes with a start, and for a moment she thinks of pain. But there is none, just a ringing in her ears and a throbbing in her head. Her body is fine, at least until her eyes focus on what’s in front of her. Sejeong leans over the side of the stretcher, Pinky clutching onto her. Both their eyes are red, their faces marked with cuts.

She needs to get up. She needs to be doing something. She grabs the metal rails and starts to haul herself up when Sejeong pushes her back down. “Take it easy. You have a concussion.”

“I – I’m fine,” she says, sitting up. Finally her surroundings come into focus. Fluorescent lights, beige walls, stretcher, she’s in a hospital somewhere. “What happened? Where’s – where is everyone?”

The two of them don’t answer – Sejeong grimaces, and Pinky turns away. Just as her stomach starts to twist, she’s saved by a doctor appearing – someone in a white coat spattered maroon, at least. “Hey, it’s just a concussion, right? Give my stretcher to someone that needs it,” she mutters, climbing over the side. She even makes it a few steps forward before her legs give out.

Sejeong’s there to catch her. “You have a little more than that,” she mutters, and that’s when Somi notices the bandages constricting her legs. “I told you to take it easy.”

The doctor passing by just nods at her. She’s awake and alive, which seems to satisfy him, and he takes the stretcher with him as he runs down the corridor. Her gaze follows him to fall on the row of seats by the ward’s reception, where she sees a gathering forming – and a few familiar faces.

Leaning on each other, all three of them amble over to the seats. Doyeon and Yoojung are at least glad to see her, thin smiles on their lips. There aren’t any words to say, at least not now. For now they can hold onto each other, for now they’re all in warm and in one piece and in good company.

Someone watches the five of them from another seat, someone Somi knows. Jeongyeon is there in shirt and jeans, head in hands. Somi makes her way over, and a face she knows looks up at her. She’s aged, she’s been crying, she’s a bloodied mess like they all are.

She’s about to say something when Jeongyeon turns away from her. Her gaze falls on the end of the corridor, and the doors that lead towards the operating theatre. She doesn’t need, or want, to ask who’s in there. So she rests a hand on Jeongyeon’s shoulder and sits, listening to the woman’s sobbing.

And that’s when Sejeong takes her hand. “I – I heard from the others. Someone from the army took the away – they’re at a military hospital. They’re – a-alive, at least.”

She nods along to Sejeong’s words. So they’re all in one piece. In fact, she’s probably the one most in need of medical care. “That’s – good” she replies, words leaving her lips automatically. So she’s lucky – they’re all lucky, right? They have connections, money. They can flee and be safe, or as safe as they can be as a civilian in wartime.

Her gaze falls on Jeongyeon beside her, her unnie’s sobbing now quiet. She doesn’t want to be in that position. To be waiting on news on someone else’s fate. To sit there and be able to do nothing about it.

“Sejeong, can I speak with you for a moment?“

Her unnie turns to her, staring back at her. She thought she had Sejeong figured out, thought she had some idea of who she was and what she wanted.

All that was blown to pieces only hours ago. Now she hasn’t got the time to consider her feelings, to think about what Sejeong wants. Not when she nearly lost her once already. This might be her only chance.

“Somi – what is it? Are you alright?”

Her mouth opens and closes, the words catching in her throat. She can’t do it. She can’t. Not now, not when anything could be snatched away at any moment. When they’re safe, she’ll say it. She doesn’t want to inflict that pain, the one she knows Jeongyeon is feeling, on anyone – certainly not Sejeong.

If only she confessed then. Who knows the pain she might have saved them.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re really doing this?” Somi asks, her voice starting to waver.

Sejeong nods. Her unnie’s kept the same expression since she walked in the door, gaze steeled and lips together. Sejeong’s hair is cut short, lopped off just below her earlobes before being tied back. No makeup, loose and comfortable clothing, and single sports bag tossed onto the floor. “I’ve already put my name down. I leave for training in three hours.”

Somi sees Sejeong’s eyes scan the room, noting what she’s done with her apartment. Suitcases by the wall, bag stacked on top. The curtains are drawn, the TV’s off, the only light on is the one above the dining table. “When’s your flight?” Sejeong asks.

“Five hours,” Somi replies, lips twisting into a grimace.

“You’re leaving soon, right? I heard it’s pretty difficult to even get close to the airport now.”

“Yeah, I’m going soon. “Just – Sejeong – why?”

“I know what it might mean. But – I have to do this.”

“No, no you don’t – you really don’t. What about your family?“

“They’re – they’re why I need to do this. They haven’t called – not since Anyang was lost.” It’s Somi that brings a hand to her mouth, feels a sick feeling rising in her throat. All while Sejeong’s expression stays the same. But she can see the pain behind that blank wall.

“No, no, this is – insane. Completely insane. You don’t need to do this.” Her voice is starting to choke. “Please.”

“Somi….they’re – they’re all I have left. Is there someone you’d do anything for? Someone you would sacrifice everything for? Somi…this is my sacrifice.”

Sejeong’s watch beeps, and not a moment later Somi sees her phone travel along the table, buzzing loudly. They both need to go.

Her life has been at crossroads before – but this feels different from deciding on whether to become a trainee. Whether to come to Korea. This is about death, and the closing of possibilities, not the hope of fulfilling a dream. This is about not having one crushed. Sejeong turns to leave, and she almost leaps forward, wrapping her arms around Sejeong.

She wants to say it. But she can’t. She tries not to think of herself, of her own desires – she can’t, when Sejeong is only thinking of country and family. Would it be cruel to say it now? To make her unnie choose?

So she chooses to keep her lips sealed, sobbing into Sejeong’s shoulder as she holds on tight. “Just – please - come back. Come back…”

 

///

 

Somi manages the first week well enough. There’s the chaos of moving and the excitement of somewhere new to stay – new sights and smells and places to visit. It takes a day to shake the accent off her English, and another few days are lost to shopping with her family.

But she knows that it’s all a distraction. She knows, because she has to leave the room when the news comes on the TV. She doesn’t want to look at the newspaper beside the breakfast each morning. She does her best to stay off the net, leaving her phone beside her bed each day.

So she throws herself into whatever she can find. Exercise works the best – out in the winter air, she runs and runs and runs until every part of her burns. She asks her dad for taekwondo lessons, and he obliges, at least until she remembers enough of her training. Then she works the bag every day, giving her a physical outlet to the feeling that’s eating her up every hour of every day. She exhausts herself every day and collapses into bed each night. If she’s lucky, she’s too tired to dream. If she’s unlucky, her nights are haunted just like her days.

Then the first email arrives. It’s a photo – a group of men and women in woodland green, a class of thirty or so. Very few are smiling. One face stands out, one of the women kneeling at the front. It’s her. It’s her -

_I’m with the 9 th Infantry Division, 3rd Army. We go north tomorrow. _

She doesn’t sleep that night.

 

///

 

“Somi? How are you?” Chungha’s there, all smiles in the sunlight – it looks warm, wherever she’s calling from.

“Unnie? Can you use English? I need some more practice.”

“Oh, sure. How’s Canada?”

“It’s – really cold.” That gets her a chuckle. “How’s the States?”

“It’s good, it’s good. Just getting settled in with family. It’s not Gangnam, that’s for sure – “

“Ah….you showoff. Have you been keeping busy?”

“There’s a dance studio nearby, I’ve already called. Some of the staff there know who I am, I might start teaching some lessons. Just been exploring the city, in the meantime…how about you?”

“Oh you know, catching up with family. No work here, yet.”

It’s empty talk.

“Did you see the message – “

And there it is.

“Yeah, I saw.”

“Are you ok?”

She’s very not OK. “I’m fine.”

“Somi….you’re not a good liar.” There’s a note of frustration in Chungha’s voice, and then her unnie switches back to Korean and now Somi can really hear it. “You’re not fine. It’s because of her, right?”

She feels her eyes watering, and turns away from the camera. It’s pointless, really, for Chungha will know that she’s crying anyway. “Yeah, it’s her. I – I didn’t tell her –“

“Well don’t tell me. Tell her when she gets back. She’s strong. She’ll make it.”

But that’s not true, is it? She knows Sejeong. Seen her fall down and cry just like the other ten of them. Seen the strong face she puts on. Do they not see it? Or does she only show Somi that side of herself? Or do they not care like she does?

She mouths her goodbye, before her phone slips from her fingers.

 

///

 

The news arrives one week later. Her family does the best to hide the war from her – but on this particular day, they’ve failed. The paper’s there on the table, in between coffee cups and scrambled eggs. Black letters and black news stamped on the page.

_South Korea’s third army was dealt a devastating blow last night, as their attempt to push northward ended in disaster. Launching an assault to halt the enemy’s advance through Gyeonggi, they were met with unexpected resistance…  The fighting in the Gyeonggi province continues unabated as both sides dig in and prepare for further hostilities…_

Is there someone she would do anything for?

Is there?

 

///

 

She only needs a day to get ready. Her one bag doesn’t even take an hour – it’s not like she’ll be needing much once she’s over there. The ticket takes fifteen minutes at her laptop and costs a pittance. Have to put someone on the planes going over. At least no-one questions what she’s doing, locked away in her room. Crying alone is something she’s done too much of, and now it ends.

It’s her farewells that take the rest of the day. Her parents worry her the least. They at least have Evelynn. She writes something short and simple for them. She writes another letter for her sister, trying to tell her everything she can. Every lesson an older sister can give, in case she’s not there to be one. And for both of them, she writes an apology. She doesn’t expect them to understand why she’s doing this. So she asks for their forgiveness instead. For what she’s doing, for what she will do.

She doesn’t say goodbye in person - the taxi arrives early the next morning. And she doesn’t look back as it pulls away.

 

///

 

A rigid adherence to rules. Endless, endless, repetition. Someone stern shouting at her all day. Martial arts, dancing, singing, shooting, running – whatever it was. For nearly all her life she’d been training for something. She wasn’t a natural learner, or gifted in any exceptional way that mattered now. She’d just learned how to learn, trained herself to train. It was hard, of course – but what kind of training wasn’t? Every time things got hard, every time she was out of breath and broken down and on the ground ready to give up – whether it was sparring, dance practice, or the assault course - she’d always had a dream to hold onto, and this time was no different.

So when she was face down in the mud, out of breath from a run, when she was struggling with one last press-up – she managed to fight through the pain and exhaustion and take one extra step. Something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by her squad. Or at least that’s what she hoped the attention was for. Even here, a few people recognised her from her previous career. Mud on her face every day and matted hair could only hide so much, she supposed. At least by the second week the stares had stopped. Partly because they were too tired, partly because she was just another member of the squad now.

The past month had been a blur, but things were becoming clearer now. They’d cut back on the most intensive physical training, the instructors only making them train just enough to keep them in shape. They’d been sent to the range every other day – in between, placed in squad exercises. Now everyone in the unit knew. They’d be going north soon – it was only a matter of when.

That thought had been stuck in her mind these past few weeks, and tonight was no different. Needing a distraction, she gets up from her bunk, letting herself outside to sit on the steps. Here the night air can keep her cool – out here, there isn’t the heat of ten bodies crammed into a cabin. A little cool water from her canteen, the night sky above, above from the lights of the city – it was the most peace she’d had for a long while.

She hears boots crunching on gravel behind her, and a quick glance over her shoulder shows someone approaching. Short-cropped black hair, sleeves rolled up – it’s Jeongyeon.

“Hey. How’s it going?” She doesn’t quite feel like fully turning around for a greeting, instead keeping her eyes on the stars.

“Less tired than usual. I’m sick of all this testing and training,” There’s an edge in Jeongyeon’s voice. She didn’t always sound like this did she? Was it age, or something else? Either way, she nods along with her unnie’s words. Enthusiasm would be the wrong word. But she does want to get out there. She has a job to do.

“Nine of us sharing a room, training all day…you remember SIXTEEN?”

God, that felt like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. “Not really, if I’m honest. Feels like it was someone else who went on that show.” Someone else learned how to sing, dance, do aegyo, act, make people laugh. That was another Somi.

“I know.” Somi looks down at her canteen, swirling the water around before returning her gaze to the sky.

“Why are you here?” Jeongyeon asks, taking a drink from her own canteen as she waits for Somi to answer.

 “Just…a certain someone that I want to protect.”

“Isn’t your family in Canada?”

“Yeah, they are. This, this is for someone else.”

“What can one woman do that an army can’t?”

“Nothing. I know this is foolish. But I can’t just sit at home and wait.”

“You have people waiting for you, right? What did they say?”

“I-I ran away. You understand, don’t you?“

“Damn right I do.” There’s rustling behind her, and she turns her head to Jeongyeon fishing something out of a pocket in her fatigues. A crumpled photo – nine smiles, nine women in casual clothes, smiling on a sunny day. “Someone here won’t ever smile again, because of them. And I can’t stand for that. I’m not here to protect…no, I’m here to take. They took someone – something away from me. And I intend take as much as I can from them.”

“Someone?” She turns around, trying to get a read on Jeongyeon. It’s too hard in the darkness, Jeongyeon’s hair shading her face.

“Yes….someone. I know it won’t make things right, bring her back just as she was. It’s not the same as having her back. It’s not even that good of a substitute. Don’t tell me - I know this is no way to live. But it’s far better than waiting to die.”

 

///

 

Today’s the day. They all gather, everyone cramming into the one photo. She sits in the front, next to Jeongyeon. No-one smiles for the camera. No-one wants to cry, either, though that doesn’t stop a few of them.

She doesn’t shed a tear. She’s cried enough already. She knows she’s not ready for this – she can’t be – but she knows what she might have to do. And she’s already heard the good news. They’re headed for Gyeonggi. The more superstitious among them don’t want to be heading towards the site of a defeat, but she couldn’t be happier.

Someone’s looking over her shoulder as she writes her email home, but she doesn’t care. She can’t answer all her family’s questions, but she knows what to say.

_Training has been hard, but I’m thriving here. I’ll do everything I can to come back safe._

_We go north tomorrow._


	3. Chapter 3

The constant thudding of the helicopter blades reverberates through her body. It’s loud, it’s not comfortable at all, but it’s oddly familiar in its own way. Her first ride – in training – was an exercise in terror, and that was before she had to jump from the damn thing. But like everything else, repetition had blunted the shock, and now she was flanked by her squad, the nine of them squashed into the passenger compartment of the Blackhawk.

With the window seat, she had a prime view of the countryside rushing by beneath her. The familiar square buildings on base gave way to green fields, before the grey urban sprawl soon reappeared beneath. At first, it appeared as if nothing was wrong, just the clutter showing on streets that no-one had cleaned for months. Then came the smashed windows, the occasional crater from a stray artillery round. Then there were the black scorches on the building facades - most of the fires in the city had long since burned out.

She felt her fingers tighten around the rifle's grip as they continued, the empty buildings flashing by the window. Shattered glass, abandoned storefronts, dusty streets, burnt out cars, yet it still seemed so strangely familiar. The distant rattle of gunfire sounded out, bouncing off the buildings to echo all around her. And soon it wasn’t just the echoes she heard but the cracks and booms that signalled conflict ahead.

Then her radio came to life. “This is HQ to Victor Three-Three. Divert to sector bravo ten with haste. Enemy is mounting an attack. Please acknowledge.”

“Victor Three-Three to HQ, roger that. Over.”

The chopper rolls beneath her, turning to a new heading, and that’s when she spots the dots coming over the horizon. And in what feels like seconds, they’ve resolved into triangles, and then into a flight of jets soaring overhead, their sonic booms audible over the helicopter.

This is her reality now.

 

///

 

She lets go of the trigger and drops back down behind the destroyed car she’s sharing with Pvt. Yoo. “I’m out!” she shouts, pulling another magazine from her chest carrier and loading it into her rifle. Her gun has fallen silent, but her squad’s fire still rings out, cracks and booms bouncing off the buildings – at least the ones still intact. Today’s just another day on the frontlines. She used to be terrified. She threw up after her first battle. But now it’s automatic, whether it’s planting one foot on a stage or stepping out from the steel safety of an armoured barricade.

The squad’s gunner opens up, the heavier thudding of his machine gun coming from behind her. She locks the bolt back in place on her rifle and taps Jeongyeon on the shoulder. “Let’s move!” Under the guns of her squad, she runs forward – and no sooner has she planted herself behind the next piece of cover than she’s firing again – checking angles, tapping the trigger, and listening for the rest of her squad behind her.

“Kim, Baek, flank right. Hold down that area!”

“Yessir!”

It’s hard work. Her lungs burn, from the running, the concrete dust in the air, the gunsmoke and smell of cordite clinging to her. Each step they advance is fought for, paid for in bullets as they leapfrog forwards, alternating between firing and running. She can see the target building now – an office tower that through sheer luck seems to escaped the bombardment that’s wiped several floors off the surrounding buildings.  They’re so close now.

If she was ever happy to see gunfire, this was it, muzzle flashes appearing at the windows as whoever was in there helped laid down covering fire to let them cross the street. She rests her rifle on top of a post box, firing one long burst to let Jeongyeon cross. The enemy’s rifles answer, but someone with a machinegun finishes the argument just as she makes it across to the office building.

And then, suddenly, there’s silence, only echoes and distant rumbling sounding around the area. Which means she can actually hear what the soldiers who greet their squad are saying. All of them are more dust grey than army green, relief on their faces as they point to the stairwell.

“Who’s left?”

“Just us two and a few others upstairs. CO’s there too.”

The second floor has the wounded, maroon splattered over the grey décor. There’s two wounded lying on desks, the one corpsman checking that both are still alive. For those that aren’t, there’s a corner of the floor with lumps under black sheets.

She follows her squad up to the top floor, and to her surprise, there’s sunlight. If it wasn’t the top floor before, it is now - the ceiling has been ventilated by something explosive. Filing cabinets have been conscripted to help, tipped over to shore up the sandbags by the windows.

The sergeant here salutes, and she notes him immediately collapse back into a seating position as soon as her lieutenant dismisses him. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you sir.”

“Gimme a sitrep, sergeant.”

“We’ve been holding this area for six days, at least. Our relief was taken out by the airstrike two days ago. Same one that did the roof in, and took out the L.T. It’s been real bad since then, sir.”

“Get some rest, we’ll take over here. Park, go see to the wounded, Pvt. Kim, go with him and assist. Rest of you, with me. Just cause they’ve retreated doesn’t mean they’re gone.”

Orders are given, and she moves to her designated position at one of the windows. Marked by shattered glass and blood spatter, she notes the spent brass on the floor. Clearly this position’s been used before – she just hopes she fares better than the last guy. Settling into position, she kneels on the floor and sets a pair of magazines on the desk.

Someone walks up to her – a private, a bandage around his face. “The destroyed tank down the street, that’s five hundred metres. Tipped over lamppost, that’s three hundred. Pedestrian crossing – yeah, that one – that’s one fifty.”

“Thanks,” she states. It’s then that she sees the man’s unit patch – a white horse rearing on a blue background. “9th infantry. Which unit?”

“29th Regiment. Not a lot of us left. Not after – you know.”

“Yeah, it’s alright.”

Someone taps her on the shoulder. Jeongyeon. “Aren’t you supposed to be –?”

“I’ll take over here for now. Command confirmed the enemy’s retreat, though it’s probably them just readying a counterattack. You should head down to the infirmary – they’ve got food and water. Someone wants to see you down there, as well.”

She follows Jeongyeon back down the stairs. Private Kim is down here, closing his bag of medical supplies before he turns to Jeongyeon and leaves with her – letting Somi get a clearer view of who he was just attending to. It’s a very a familiar woman – spattered maroon, bruised and dirty and battered and just torn up and spit out – but Sejeong’s alive, by god she’s still alive and she’s here and Somi can hold her.

“Somi?” Her unnie asks, eyes vacant and staring for a moment, disbelief all over Sejeong’s face.

For the first time in a long while, she puts down her gun and wraps her arms around Sejeong. It take a moment for her to remember her unnie’s state – relaxing her tight hold lets Sejeong continue mumbling. “Somi – Somi – am I dreaming?”

She can recognise that look now – that thousand yard stare of someone who’s seen combat. She’s been caught with that look on her face before. Now she sees it on Sejeong - so lost, wide-eyed and fearful. So much she’d seen was confidence and strength. She’s seen her cry before. She’s seen her sad, seen her brought low. But this is something else.

“No, no, this isn’t a dream – I’m here. I’m here for you.”

And then Sejeong’s hugging her back, and Somi’s sure that her unnie is giving all of her strength for this. “Sejeong please – save your energy. I – have something to say, I – “

“I love you, Somi.”

She knows what to do. She’s seen more than enough lives snatched away in front of her to care anymore. So she looks Sejeong in the eyes and just kisses her on the lips. They kiss like it’s their last, because it very well might be. Part of her knows it’s not romantic at all. To think she once dreamed of dinner in a fancy restaurant, food and wine and the smell of Sejeong’s shampoo. Not blood and smoke and gunpowder and dust.

It only lasts till the count of three. It’s not like either of them really have breath to spare, and her body armour is getting in the way too. Then she gets the feeling that someone’s watching her - probably the lieutenant, she thinks. She turns, and it’s Pvt Yoo, just staring. Her eyes are damp too – maybe from the dust, maybe from something else. “Just got word, enemy will be attacking in force. We have to hold as long as we can – or at least until artillery support can get into position.”

“Gear. My gear.” Sejeong states with a growl.

“You’re in no shape to –“

“My trigger finger is fine, that’s all I need. My gear, please” her unnie states, louder this time. As if the problem was that Somi didn’t hear her properly, not that she was still in bandages. Somi complies, helping Sejeong put her combat webbing back on. Sejeong picks up her carbine by herself, racking the slide back and forth to check the mechanism before she stands up straight. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Somi smiles. She’s missed that look – the fire in Sejeong’s eyes.

Somi then hands Sejeong her rocket launcher, which gets swung over her unnie’s shoulder. Now Sejeong stands up straight, hands on her weapon, and that’s Somi’s cue to spin around to see her squad leader standing there.

“Good to see you up. Report to the top floor with Pvt. Yoo. Enemy will be here soon.”

She turns to Sejeong, shares one last look before they head up the stairs – to join the rest of the squad, to ready for the coming battle. She’s afraid. She’s been afraid, in some way or another for months now. But now she’s always had something to fight for, and right now it’s right in front of her.

 

///

 

She counts the time by the shell casings piling up by her boots – no time to look at her watch when the enemy’s closing in, the flashes of enemy fire moving closer and closer. She’s on her fourth magazine now, burning into the back half of her supply, and she doesn’t want to think about how much longer this is going to take. Her mouth opens to call out her reload – then Sejeong’s shout interrupts her.

“Enemy armour, twelve o’clock!”

“You – with the rocket. Get some fire downrange. Private Yoo, cover her!” her Sergeant shouts.

“Yessir!”

The others move away – although the rocket launcher is cleared for firing in confined spaces, nobody wants to risk singing their eyebrows in any backblast. Her rifle joins Jeongyeon’s as they fire at a building down the street, bullets flying through windows long since smashed. And then there’s a loud bang – followed a plume of smoke further down the street.

“Any effect on target?”

“Nope. Probably a frontal hit.” Sejeong states. Her unnie starts to reload, discarding the used launch tube for a fresh one, attaching the guidance package before swinging the massive weapon onto her shoulder once more.

There’s another set of loud explosions – the ringing blast of the rocket’s launch followed by a burst of smoke and flame several hundred metres down the street.

“Did we get ‘em?” someone asks. The gunfire pauses for the briefest moment –

And then the wall in front of her is vaporised in a flash, knocking her over backwards. That’s what saves her life as a hail of tracers fills the air, stitching holes in anyone still up, painting what’s left of the wall behind her in dark red.

Before she can get up, the second shell hits – somewhere beneath her, impacting the first floor. For second she feels like she’s going to be sick, but it’s not her stomach, it’s the floor shifting beneath her. “Everyone out! Building’s coming down!”

She doesn’t look behind her, not for a moment as she dashes for the stairs. She can’t hear the creaking of the building – her ears are still ringing – but the steps down are not easy. Debris pings as it bounces of her helmet, her lungs burning from the dust and the exertion. But they make it out – barely – and run straight out onto the street, dashing for the next building before  the tank can mow them down.

“They’re moving up! I can get a clearer shot if someone draws their fire!” Sejeong shouts into her radio, voice hoarse as she struggles to be heard over the roar of enemy fire.

“Turret’s traversing!”

Sejeong lifts her launcher – and fires. This time Somi gets to see it happen – the burst of smoke from the blackblast, the larger explosion as the rocket’s motor ignites, the burst upon impact with the enemy tank. And there’s quite the finale, the explosion bursting open the steel shell of the war machine down the street. Its guns fall silent.

And then they can move. “Alpha team, cover front! Bravo with me!” her sergeant shouts, and what’s left of them spring into action. Baek and Kang rush to the sandbags, laying down fire with their rifles as what’s left of them fall back up the street, finding doorways and cars and barriers to hide behind.

“Victor Three-three, link up with support at the LZ Alpha four hundred metres south of your position. Evac will be waiting there – “

“Squad, staggered retreat!”

Fear and panic threaten to overwhelm her, heart hammering in her chest. There’s too many of them, too much happening at once. Only her training stops her from breaking down. Fire, reload, run, and repeat. More than once she has to make a conscious effort to maintain fire discipline, to keep her hammering heartbeat slow as she taps the trigger.

She turns to move, letting the rest of the squad cover her – she can see the park ahead of her, its gates wide open. There’s friendlies there, moving up to the entrance to cover their retreat. Then a chopper soars overhead, its turret blazing. Its minigun fires, sending a continuous stream of lead scything across the street in front of them as they take up positions. It’s first in, first out, the squad ahead of them filling up the Blackhawk as soon as it descends.

“This is Juliet One-Three, we’re secure and away. Going to do a gun run and provide some cover for you guys.”

“Roger that. Squad, defensive positions.”

They’re almost out of here. They’re not home – not yet – not by a long shot – but they’re going to make it. The chopper in the distance lifts off, its guns blazing as it pulls away, letting her rest and reload behind her barricade. She can hear another set of rotors now, growing louder as their ride out of here approaches. But she keeps her eyes on the objective – on the rest of her squad, on Sejeong – as they rush to regroup at the landing zone –

And then everything goes to hell. Silhouettes appear on the nearby roofs – at the windows too – and as she swings her rifle around to fire, the enemy fires first. Rockets fly overhead as the ground in front of her erupts, lit up with enemy machinegun fire. It’s not the deafening gunfire that she hears, but the screams of her comrades, her brothers, her sisters on the radio -

Someone behind her tosses a smoke grenade, a grey cloud exploding in front of her as she dashes forward – towards the enemy – towards death – searching for that one person, the one whose scream she can hear.

“Squad – report in – what’s happening – “

“I’m hit – I can’t feel my – aaargh – “

“Somi! Somi – I’m here – “

She finds her – sitting up, rifle in her hands and still firing back, despite the red blooming across her leg and the marks on her armour. “Please – my leg –“ Hooking her arm around Sejeong, she lifts her unnie – her love – off the tarmac and start to run, half-carrying, half-dragging Sejeong to safety. They can make it. They can still make it -

“Mayday, mayday, this is Juliet Two-One, we are going down –“

The thudding of the helicopter’s blades becomes louder and louder. She even hears the scream of its engines as it spins out of control, slamming into a building down the street. There’s the screech of metal slicing through concrete above her, chunks of it crashing it down around her as she runs. Dust covers her mouth, burning her throat as she feels her legs wanting to give up.

“Command, our ride out just went down! Please advise!”

“This is Juliet Two-Two, I’m close to Victor Three-Three’s position. Can land at LZ alpha. Be advised Victor Three-Three, we don’t have enough seats for all of you –“

“We’ll take it! What’s your ETA?” It’s her Sergeant, shouting and defiant even in this final hour.

“One minute to touchdown, Juliet Two-Two out.”

“LZ is hot, keep them supressed!” she shouts into her mike, nearly tripping as she does so. “Sejeong, Sejeong, we’re going to make it. We’ll make it.”

She’s so close, she’s so damn close. Her boot catches on something, and for a moment she looks down. It’s a body - Corporal Kang – his eyes open and staring past her -

That’s when she sees the burst of red explode from her leg, spraying out in front of her. That’s when she falls down on one knee and screams, a hoarse cry that takes all the breath she has left.

But she keeps on moving, staggering forward through the entrance to the park. The last of her squad is ahead of her, four rifles blazing as they lay down covering fire. The wash from the chopper hits her face, and the last few steps feel like she’s running into a gale, only adding to the strain. But she makes it, she makes it, and someone’s there to lift Sejeong out of her hands.

She looks up, and she sees the flight officer strapping Sejeong into her seat. She lifts her foot to step on board –

The chopper suddenly lifts, throwing her off balance and sending her sprawling on her back. Then the rocket flies over her head to explode against a nearby tree – flame and smoke and bark and metal sent flying outwards. Her sergeant, standing to her left, catches the worst of the blast, his body knocking her over.

“Sir – you’re – “

He nods, standing up – only to immediately fall as a bullet catches him right in the head. She rolls over, crawling towards cover. There’s voices on the radio, shouting and screaming in confusion.

“What the fuck are you doing? Set us down! We don’t leave anyone behind – “

“We land again, we all die! It’s way too fucking hot down there – “

“Land goddamnit!”

The radio falls silent for a moment – no, not silent. It’s someone crying. She knows who it is.

“This is Victor Three-Three, any other evac in the AO?” she asks, voice still shaking from the pain.

“Negative on that. Skies are no longer clear. And – I’m sorry.”

“Roger that Juliet Two-two. Victor Three-Three, out.”

She turns to the battle before her. To the last of her squad – just in time to see Private Kwon cut down in front of her. A bullet tears through his neck, leaving him lying on his back. She can see his fingers twitching, reaching for one of the grenades on his vest. Half of her wants to shut her eyes, to scream, to give up.

“All units, this is command.  Be advised, evac order June is in effect. Fall back to designated positions. Area denial strike is incoming, one minute.”

But she knows she can’t stop fighting. If there’s just a chance she can make it out of this -

Something hits her, square in the chest. It’s worse than any punch she took in training, that’s for sure. Already unsteady on her wounded leg, she falls over backwards and ends up looking at the sky. From the corner of her eye, she can see the chopper peel away, chased by stray rounds but never in any danger. And she smiles. Sejeong’s safe. Sejeong’s safe. She doesn’t even hurt anymore. Maybe she should just lie here, get some rest –

A hands grabs her shoulder. “Somi! You’re not dead yet!” It’s Pvt. Yoo Jeongyeon, looking like a woman possessed. Blood runs down one of her cheeks, her helmet scorched by a near miss of something explosive. Dragging Somi by one hand, Jeongyeon fires her rifle with the other as she pulls Somi into cover. “You better not die on me. You better not die on her!”

She’s yanked to her feet. To her surprise, her leg no longer hurts. Maybe it was just a flesh wound, maybe it’s the adrenaline. But it’s enough for her to drag herself over to the barricade and kneel, sighting her rifle on the enemy closing in. And she just moves – firing, cutting down one, two, sending more scattering for cover. “Anyone still on this channel?”

There’s no answer. Pvt. Kim is dead, fifty metres ahead of her, his fingers still around his grenade. Pvt. Baek has fallen too, face-down in a pool of his own blood. It’s only Jeongyeon left beside her, too busy firing to reply. It’s only when her squadmate’s rifle clicks that she does. “Last mag! No grenades either!”

“Last mag,” she calls out, watching the enemy move in closer. They’ve cleared the open area of the surrounding streets, and have started to move into the park. With their cover – and her lack of bullets – they’re nothing left to do but wait for the end. She turns to Jeongyeon, and smiles.

Now she hears whistling from the sky, and looks up, ready to see hell raining down from heaven.

_I’m sorry, Sejeong._

 

 


	4. Epilogue

Pain. It’s the pain that wakes her first. She’s sore and bruised all over, her ears are ringing, her head aches, and her arms refuse to move. But pain can be good. She’s known that for a while now. Pain means you can still feel. Pain means you’re alive.

With a groan, she lifts herself out of the dirt, using the sandbags by her – what’s left of them – to help herself up. She’s lucky. She can even stand, maybe walk, even if her rifle feels too heavy right now.

What was once a small park in the suburbs of Seoul has now been torn to shreds. The artillery barrage that fell has mulched everything around her, turning green field into dirt craters. Amongst the brown is army green, bodies strewn about. That’s when she sees her. The body lying on its back, red blooming all over the dead woman’s chest, marking her face, eyes staring up into the sky. And a smile on her cold lips.

“I’m sorry, Somi.”

It should have been her. Somi had something – someone to live for. She doesn’t. She reaches down, closes her unnie’s eyes, and takes the dog tags from around her neck. And then, she takes the last magazine from Somi’s body, and loads it into her rifle. She’s going to need it.

Because now she has two to kill for.

_Is there someone she would do anything for?_

_No. Not any more._


End file.
